Witnesses

 

I removed the shade

from the standing floor lamp

to give it a long overdue cleaning

I sat in my chair

a few feet from the hatless light provider

while wiping away the dust and debris

collected by the beleaguered shade

until my gaze was averted and drawn

to the glaringly bright area

of illumination on the wall

exposed by the naked bulb

my eyes fixed upon the ripples

and striations that I could see

in the paint

I thought to myself

without the ‘spotlight’

I would have ordinarily

just seen a wall

smooth and flat

for we seldom notice the everyday ordinary

nor ponder the usual redundant scenery

but the bright glow revealed

intriguing textures of character

in the patterns of the paint and plaster

which caused me to draw comparisons

to time, life, and the skin

that travels through them

I reminded myself that

there is no such thing

as smooth

that everything

at a molecular level

is bumpy and rough

along its entropic procession

 

My thoughts turned to you

(as they are so often wont to do)

and I wished that I could see you

at a molecular level

and run my fingers

along your ripples and striations

to familiarize myself with your feel

the one that life has painted for you

with your hand

I could spend forever observing

with fascination

the unparalleled machinations  

in your microscopic interweave

of motion, temperature, and luminosity

listening for the rhythms

that compel atoms

to dance

to your unique beat

 

I wished that you could

(or would)

consider reciprocating in kind

so that we could share

what we’ve seen and felt

in the learning of each other

outside boundaries

free of walls

in the shared intimacy

of witnesses magnified

by the exclusivity

and brilliance

of the new light

that individual particles

flowing in tandem

might emanate

 

But wishes

aren’t smooth

either

 

       s.paul  (Jan. 2022)